#despair division

[annas-anya]

In the Marigold field

[nyxneon]

💖

[withoutalice]

Okay so I bleached my hair like 5 times so it would be blonde enough for me to go metallic silver and something went wrong  😭  so now I have blonde hair with these silver chunks randomly ahhhaahahahhahahhhshshshsss

on another note i literally have Despair Division™️ hair now

[strawberry-seal77]

the fall of beacon was so so so cool ! THE REVEAL OF VELVETS SEMBLANCE WAS AMAZING TOOOOO AGHHH.

[happyendingsong]

watching the kickoff show first and um why is there a 25man rumble match on this card and not becky vs trish.

[memwazz]

MASTERPOST - Short summaries of all my Original Stories and links to their own dedicated Masterposts

SEVEN : DIVISION UNITED

This story is the one I currently focus on.

It follows the Seventh Division, a dysfunctional superheroes team protecting a fictive, slightly futuristic version of the USA ruled by a martial law. Most of the plot revolves around them and the teenage MC Erwan fighting different antagonists with or without special abilities, while trying to handle their chaotic daily life together.

Created circa 2019.

B-CLASS

B-Class is the only project I've completed so far, taking the form of two French novels and their spin-off.

The setting is a contemporary dystopia with a cast system discriminating and exploiting a group of people called the "B-Class". The main character Icare is a privileged journalist from the A who will change its viewpoint on oppression after falling in love with his own domestic slave Riùn. Then comes Abys the ACAB Boy and they all start a revolution 🔥

Very very queer and politic.

Created circa 2017 and completed in March 2018.

[B-CLASS Related] POUR UN RAYON DE SOLEIL

The spin-off I mentioned above focuses on Icare's past relationship with Ryse, a major antagonist in B-Class.

They used to date 5 years before the story and PURS explains how Icare became depressed and suic!d@l after a whole year of abuse.

Created and completed between November and July 2018.

AN EYE FOR AN EYE

This one has a special place in my heart since it's the first story I've ever created back in middle-school. Many things changed in 10 years but it still tells the journey of Daniil who rebels against and has to run away from his former boss.

At the beginning, Daniil works as a bodyguard for an important member of a criminal organization; but he loses his temper and tries to unalive him when he discovers Akito murd€red his late girlfriend 3 years before. And then they both chase and try to k!ll each other 🤷

May include shit like war flashbacks and Japanese mafia idk

Created circa 2012.

DE A à Z

Zephyr and Adriel are two angels who've lived as a couple in Heaven for thousands of years.

But when Babel, an artificial angel, is created by humans and sent to Heaven to communicate with God, everything collapses. Babel manages to kill God and takes Their place to impose his vision of right and wrong, influenced by the humans' misinterpretation of the Bible. From then on, all romantic and sexual relationships are forbidden, forcing the couple to hide.

When Babel discovers Adriel's love letters, he is kicked out of Heaven and has to find allies on Earth to overthrow Babel and get his lover back.

Created circa 2019.

42

42 tells the story of Mat, a young woman searching for Sara, her little sister who disappeared years ago. Her investigations lead her to "Number 42", a man who just escaped from a lab experimenting on humans. Since Mat's sister seems to be prisoner from the lab as well, the two of them helped by the amoral Director's oldest son, will try to save Sara and 42 himself.

Created circa 2015.

MINIUM Part. 1

This one is pure heroic fantasy; its universe and lore are my most extended so far.

Gailin, the adoptive son of Kel'Daran's king, passed a deal with him and has to save Kel'Daran from the Selv, an humanoid species invading the Kingdom. A mystic prophecy tells the war can't be won without a half-blooded Selv with mysterious powers.

Due to coincidences and quiproquos, Gailin is manipulated by Aldanys, a teenage thief who pretends she's the Chosen One.

Created circa 2015.

MINIUM Part. 2

According to my writing plan, Minium is supposed to have a second part taking place 5 years after the first one.

After Gailin killed his father/king at the end of Minium 1, he is exiled and his mentor Edelia takes Kel'Daran's throne. When a new war is suddenly started against the kingdom, Edelia realises someone she thought had died wants her dead too.

On the other side of the plot, another protagonist named Lavaan predicts a major antagonist's return through weird prophetic dreams.

Created circa 2017.

[Minium Related] ST-ANRIEL

In Minium, Gailin and elves his kind believe in an entity named Altea and the Gods they gave birth to.

The Anriel is the equivalence of their Holy Bible and tells the story of the Gods and how the world was built from the beginning to the end. It takes the form of an anthology of poems and prayers.

Created circa 2017.

[MINIUM Related] JADE ET MOI

Another Minium spin-off, focusing this time on Osvald's coming out and transition as a trans man. The story takes place on sea as "Jade"/Osvald starts his journey as a pirate after running away from home.

Created circa 2018.

[MINIUM Related] GOLDEN-EYED BEAST

GEB is a Minium spin-off telling the backstory of Lavaan, a 12 years old protagonist. Born with a golden eye in a village who fears this feature after a terrible incident with a cruel golden-eyed enemy, he is treated as an outcast since his childhood.

His life changes when Kalras, a mysterious elf with black magic, destroys his village and murders everyone. Being the only survivor, Lavaan is made prisoner and tortured by Kalras but develops a Stockholm Syndrom and falls in love with him.

From then on, Kalras who turns out to be a cult leader, uses him as a slave a pet in a toxic relationship.

Created circa 2017.

[MINIUM Related] LA SAISON DES BOURGEONS

In Minium, Edelia has a little brother named Veidin who cursed himself to save her as a child. The curse caused him chronic pain, blood, heart and bones fragility and he's doomed to a very short life expectancy.

LSDB tells his love story with Jyëlven, another young man who was cursed and has flowers and thorns growing out of his skin.

Created circa 2017.

[MINIUM Related] THE WARMTH OF OUR COLD LANDS

Just like for the Anriel, Genkhìs will have their own religious texts written.

Inspired by vikings, the people of Genkhàr honour Gods similar to Scandinavians. Each one represents a value, the most worshipped one being Ero, God of Bravery.

Created circa 2017.

ODE TO ODD

My first and only story ever to look like a shonen anime lol--

One of the main characters Naemi is a highschooler with anxiety who just wants to live an ordinary and peaceful life.

But her goth and spiritism-obsessed best friend Sayaka accidentally summons Evelgard, a young necromancer in her living-room. Evelgard decides to befriend her and live in her closet, while trying to open a portal to the World of the Dead to save his late sister's soul. The two girls discover a whole new world after meeting necromancers, exorcists, witches and demons.

Created circa 2016.

SACRED DUST

Another heroic fantasy setting, but this universe is different from Minium's !

In this story, each kingdom worships a God-dess supposed to grant it their protection. When Lidala, the Goddess of Telaman, is murdered by a rival God, she turns to dust and leaves a devastated kingdom behind.

Fortunately, one of her ashes gives birth to a child, Saljän, who soon has to become the priest of Telaman. Aged 16, Saljän hates his responsibilities so much he finally runaways and travels around the world with a little demon named Orgos. Their goal is to gather all the Sacred Dusts to resurrect Lidala before it's too late.

Created circa 2016.

BAD ROMANCE

How to define Bad Romance without telling it's my most fucked-up story ? You can't. The two main characters are such assholes I can't name a protagonist, they're both antagonists.

Derek, a criminal, gangster and drug abuser, kidnaps Jay who sent him to jail 8 years before the story. He aims at mistreating him enough for Jay to kill himself, but he soon discovers that this guy who seems to live an ordinary and boring life is as much of a sociopath as him.

They start making each other's life hell then become addicted to each other, fuck, engage in a toxic relationship and even create a gang together at the end of the plot.

Created circa 2017.

LE ROYAUME DE GAHS

My first attempt to deal with astronomy eventhough I don't understand anything about it-

The story takes place in the sky and is about two stars and their father trying to discover why the Cosmic God decided to kill/destroy all the stars. Meanwhile, there seems to be a perturbation in the cosmos and some shooting stars start turning evil for no apparent reason...

Created circa 2024.

WE ARE THE WILD

The Lion King but with wolves, mixed with Prince of Persia and the COVID-19 pandemic before it existed--

The plot follows Sôkah, a 15 years old werewolf and the son of the Alpha, who's accused of murdering his big brother. The responsible is actually Akbar, his father's counselor who evicted the two sons to take his place when he dies.

Sôkah is banished from the pack and wandering in the forest, discovers the human world. Most humans are dying from a deadly virus nicknamed "white plague", and Sôkah gets rescued by the cousins Ludwig and Weiss. Weiss is a scientist who tries to find a cure to save Ludwig who caught the white plague, and soon discovers werewolves are immune to the disease...

Created circa 2018.

STAR-716

This story's plot is not very developed and I don't know much what will happen through it. But it's once again about someone looking for a missing family member, a mother this time.

Sacha is 13 and grew up in a circus, his mother being a dancer there. But she disappeared a year before (probably after a kidnapping) and Sacha doesn't know where to start his researches. He will be helped by Novak, an irresponsible sex-worker and hopeless romantic who fell in desperate love with the mother after sleeping with her once.

Created circa 2016.

DIMENSION OF DESPAIR

Are you surprised if I tell you this one is about another dimension ? No ?

Well, the MC Megane is a single mother who works hard to raise her 4 years old alone. One day, she wakes up in an unknown dimension ruled by Master, a mysterious person with psychic powers who created the dimension with their own mind.

Turns out it's actually a "harem" where Master gathers people and things he loves or wants. Megane will look for a way to escape and save a little girl named Kadd as well as Zoé, Master's "favorite".

Created circa 2018.

UNTIL SEPTEMBER

A more simple and less fucked-up story, I swear !!

Some sort of teenage literature, Until September focused around Nero, who's having hard times as a bullied 9th grader and discovers he has water powers. From then on, he befriends the other elementaries and has to deal with Hilda, the air elementary who wants to sacrifice all the children to create a Philosopher's Stone.

Created circa 2021.

SCARECREW

Another under-developed lore !

It's a basic apocalyptic/zombie novel with a disease turning all the adults into monsters. A bunch of pre-teens who survived and don't even know each other decide to fight together against the threat and to rebuild their own world.

Created circa 2020.

VIC'TEAM

Mostly shitpost, I don't want to turn it into a novel but more like a bunch of comic strips.

It follows the daily life adventures of highschoolers with teenagers problems like love, exams and family with a comedic tone. The MC's main problem is to be named Volvic (nicknamed Vic) and there are a lot of jokes about it, as well as absurd humor.

Created circa 2016-17.

Undeveloped shit with OCs waiting for their twisted up plot

Yeah, I love creating OCs and some of them have a background and design but no story for the moment. I'll just put them here and share random facts about them.

[PERSONAL DAILY LIFE SHITPOST] The ABSOLUTELY UNCHILLING Adventures of a Smol Angry Emo Birb

The parenthesis speaks for itself, I'll gather a few billets or illustrated jokes about funny things happening in my life.

[ragesin]

❝ it’ll be all right because we’re together. ❞ ( genshin verse )

► UNPROMPTED

         It's tranquil, peaceful. Grounded senses laid open to the world around him — the slight breezy currents fluttering against his skin, sweeping through his hair and clothes. Rustling of the undergrowth and leaves. The hints of wood, grass, a light graze of floral intermingled with scent of the bubbling creek. The air was almost disgustingly fresh, filled to the brim with a cloying sweetness that should rot teeth. Everything's clear in his mind, from the nighttime sounds of the sleeping forest they resided beside to the waves of ambient energy flowing free all around.

         Soft even breaths, the faint, slowing rate of a single heart beating echoing against eardrums. Hallmarks of a losing fight against the pull to the realm of sleep. It's a wordless melody interrupted by a drowsy yawn fruitlessly half stifled, a hand faltering in its rhythmic movements, confirming the state of his adventuring companion.

         Eyes opened, half hidden between the tanned cheek smooshed into a folded arm and a mess of flaxen bangs, piercing in the low light of the flickering campfire as they blinked up in silent question. A reassuring curve of the lips framed by silver strands, luminescent under the glow of the moon, was given in return to nothing asked. Emerald hues blinked back at cerulean, unmistakably smitten soft. Those dainty fingers of hers resume combing through his wild hair while he's occupied with recovering from the smile ( how something that simple still made hearts skip a beat was beyond him ), scraping his scalp with firm but tender strokes as pleasant shivers danced up and down his spine, and wow. It never ceased to amaze how Elizabeth wielded a knack for that, making nerves buckle under the weighty force of satisfied bliss bearing down on them and forcing tension wound in muscles to dissipate. Subtle warmth enveloped him in a soothing embrace. Safe, not yet like the cresting sun peaking at blistering light. He's a boneless wreck. The tide of lethargy pulled at him with laughable ease with her assistance. Tingling content weighed heavily upon hooded lids, deep set rumble vibrating in his chest. He hoped it would never cease... Hell, as if. Like all good things it did end sooner rather than later.

❝ it’ll be all right because we’re together. ❞

         As her hand slipped from gold locks, that sigh parted her lips as she drifted off with that endearing smile in place, feather light syllables wrapped in her refreshing touch, spaces between heartfelt and overflowing with care so inexplicably Elizabeth. It'd make anyone bearing some semblance of a soul melt at the sincerity packed away the words thoughtlessly, freely given away. It could end the wars if men knew how to look at it.

         A feeling emerged from the yawning emptiness situated in the hollow caverns of his chest. It's like when he was a fledgling, transfixed in odd fascination as fissures crawled along the wall after it weathered a hit, foundation shifting and crumbling, a web of deep cracks scarring the surface. It's the same now. Detached, Meliodas observed as the same happened inside of him.

         She's right. They're together. Hearts ached, jagged and wretched, stiffening relaxed muscles to a paralyzing and stringent degree. That's the problem, isn't it ?

         Illusion of normalcy splintered, fragmented. A heaviness settled into the pit of his stomach. It twisted, writhed like a den of hissing vipers, poison seeping into blood vessels. The horror stared back through the lucent haze of moonlight with invisible unblinking eyes, looming, consuming, cutting through the dark, all gnashing teeth grinding bones.

         ( i love you, it growls sickeningly soft from the depths of his cursed soul. i love you, elizabeth. forever and always )

         It'll be alright — a repeated falsehood without end the demon told himself every time, moment to moment, desperately willing it to be true so that one day perhaps he could lose himself within the lie and believe it. One spoken with such maddening intensity that for a brief window of time even he'd forgot the woes latent and ripe with unseen tragedy entwined between them.

         Her lingering words of comfort served as both the sweetest knife and the most horrific pleasure. Dulled blade sawing through dried blood and digging into worn, perfect flesh; a reminder he / she / they were alive, bound by their precious connection and shackles. An age-old agonizing cathedral of constant wounds, comprised of festering gore that never fully closed, pried open just a little more each time it began to heal. He always let her: tear him apart, break him to pieces, and stitch him back together good as new  ( because that's what she's always been good at, fixing, while his world encompassed little aside from violence, atrocities, and destruction ). They could do this song and dance together for eternity. He deserved it, Meliodas supposed. For selfishly holding on to what's his his HIS with a vice grip until they both bleed out, rivulets dripping from the punctures beneath his nails, a sea of crimson blooming beneath each flourishing step taken. His memories, his promise guided his quest, devotion cruel enough to push his soul to move forward and fulfill it no matter how he stumbled. The man's but a living corpse daring to thread fingers with hers, a corruption burying himself flush against her smooth neck and deliriously intoxicating scent, begging through perforated lungs filled with stagnant air and iron painted lips for it all to end / for more please give him more / for her to love him despite wary suspicion of falsified emotion the curse instilled into her soul each repetition.

         He wanted to tear out his hair until scarlet flowed and let the tears well up. To rage out against the injustices that befall her time and again, doomed the second they met. To scream as hearts squeeze and squeeze so tight he's certain they're going to burst.

         Meliodas remained an image of chilling stillness, curled upon the bed of grass, temple pressed into the crook of an arm with soundless breathing wavering every so often. He didn't know how long he stayed like that, resting like the dead.

         When was the last instance time truly imposed impassable consequences outside of the bounds of a three day grace ?

         It's a simple motion when he finally moved, the moon having crossed some distance in the blanket of stars above. Wordlessly, he reached to hold her sleep-slackened hand. Calloused fingertips pressed, traced, caressed lines crisscrossed along her palm. Some strokes were firm, as though seeking to engrave his memory upon her flesh via mindless shapes. Others ghosted a fleeting imprint of hopeless longing, phantom touches questioning whether he'd ever been present at all. The intimate brushes of skin did not betray the tremors roiling beneath the surface.

         Love. The core of every action. It's love that coaxed his fortified guard to statter to dust and expose his vulnerabilities. Love made him look at her with reverence and fondness in equal strokes despite himself all those years ago. Love's what loosened his sinful tongue to sing her name like a prayer and present himself at her altar, offering flesh while pleading forgiveness. Love allowed the memories and centuries of pain caked onto his skin to be washed away into sweet scintillating oblivion.

         They're together. Who cared if Meliodas already knew what awaited him at the end of their written path, the steep cliff she unfailingly pushed him down with each loss tearing the earth and sky out from underneath his shaky feet ?  It was of no import that whenever he awakened from this sweet dream the cold reality would unerringly slam him with a force thrice harder for his fool damned indulgence and forgetting to brace himself. She couldn't ever be allowed to know this fate.

         Gaze cut to the new presence in their midst, assessing the form standing over him, green clashing against gold. A grin bloomed to life, filled with beaming mirth he couldn't really bring himself to muster inside and stretched across his face from ear to ear. His free hand shifted, index finger raised to his lips, a reticent and wholly unnecessary gesture to keep quiet. The narrowed eye roll from the adeptus was a well deserved one.

         The demon and yaksha made an unlikely duo, a companionship unexpected  ( and close. are they close ?  something in his chest nudges in the direction of the affirmative )  after coming to these lands and yet it's welcomed all the same. He really really liked the guy, harsh and biting as his demeanor may outwardly seem. Weirdly enough, their conflicting personalities meshed better than he initially presumed might ever happen upon their first encounter. In any case, the demon's glad someone else had the strength and capability to protect Elizabeth in areas he may falter.

         Retracting his hand from Elizabeth's, Meliodas languidly propped himself up despite the numbing exhaustion and yawned, using it to make even more of a tangled mess of his hair as he ran it through the mused locks, dislodging accumulated small blades of green. As he did, Xiao took a seat next to Elizabeth on her other side, taking up the mantle of guard duty for the remainder of the night.

         A part of him — a dark wisp curled in a dark corner of his mind — demanded this emptying vessel of his to reach right out and close his hands around that slim, delicate throat. An animosity misplaced but it still screeched, begging to throttle the other man, dig in powerful claws, crush the windpipe and reduce pristine snowy skin to red pulp. This intruder, you invader, it snarled, an ugly blackness, you don't belong. But, the part in control mused, wasn't that Meliodas ?  Is he himself not the foreign entity in this equation ?  The odd piece out not meant to fit into the picture ?  He could see it. Crystal clear in the depth of the ardor pooled in her blue irises when set upon Xiao. The adeptus had known this Elizabeth far longer than he. It burned obvious and bright in the ease with which he slotted himself to her side — like it was where Xiao belonged.

         It's that final thought that spurred his body to stand up, a breathless heave chasing his step and perfectly concealed irritation / affection bittersweet on the tongue. Unsaid exchange passed between the two men, drops slipping through the tenuous cracks of the taciturn lull before Meliodas ignored the dagger of his own design slipped between his ribs that chafed and maimed and turned on his heel, walking off into the dead of night away from the light of his life and the pangs of envious rancor / painstaking relief toward his friend. They'll be fine until morning. He'll return to camp when the sun greeted a new day over the horizon. Elizabeth would not even notice his absence.

         ( wrong. something is wrong wrong wrong. everything is fine. this is right. she can't be elizabeth. she's been alive too long. your elizabeth. not your elizabeth. your hearts sing a lie when you touch. it's the only truth that matters in this damn world )

         It'll be alright. They're together. Whether they wished for it or not.

@triskeleyes

[torchwood-99]

There's a bit of a role reversal with Faramir and Eowyn, in terms of how their narratives include tropes and plot points that are often traditionally applied to characters of the other sex.

Eowyn goes to war because she refuses to be left behind to be burned inside the house when the battle is done, as is often the fate of women.

Faramir actually is nearly burned alive at the hands of the patriarch of his family when said patriarch believes the battle is over and hope is lost. While Eowyn is out on the battlefield, fighting, Faramir is stuck inside the home, burning.

Between the two, Eowyn is the one we see go on more of an inner journey. She changes more over the narrative, and has to deal more with her own flaws and personal demons, as well as the injustices inflicted upon her. The climax of her story comes with a great moment of heroism and courage in battle. She is rescued by a hobbit, but as an ally in battle, not as a damsel in distress.

Faramir in the books doesn't feel tempted by the ring, and is almost a paragon of virtue. About as much as a Man in Middle Earth can be. He's closer to Arwen and Galadriel than Eowyn is, in his near perfection, in how he inspires and guides others. He is also rescued by a hobbit, but in that moment he is helpless, a damsel in distress. He is rescued because others love him for his virtue and goodness.

So often it's the other way round. Not only is the woman usually the one trapped inside, in need of rescue, while the man is out there fighting, the woman's heroism traditionally comes from the list of virtues she possesses, while the man's heroism comes from his deeds and the things he accomplishes. The man fights, the woman inspires.

But during the Battle of Pelennor fields, it is Eowyn who fights, and while she does inspire Merry, she inspires him not as a paragorn, but as an example of courage that Merry finds himself compelled to live up to. He is inspired to fight by her side, instead of fighting for her.

Faramir is sick and unconscious. His agency is denied him by his father, who decides on his behalf there's nothing left for him to live for. And it is a rush for the heroes; Pippin and Beregond, to save Faramir, and it is explicitly stated that Beregond only broke the law because he was inspired to do so out of his great love for Faramir, which is shared by all. In that moment, Faramir's role is closer to the traditional fairy tale princess, whose goodness inspires the heroes into fighting for her during her peril.

And afterwards, it is Eowyn who has to fight to find meaning in life again, to choose joy and hope over despair, which Faramir, with his loving kindness, wisdom, and gentleness, inspires her to do.

I love that, and love thinking on how that affected their relationship going forward.

Eowyn must have liked that with Faramir, she's not being married to someone who will require her to take on every aspect of the so called "woman's role" (necessary, but limiting) which has been inflicted on her at her own expense by the men in her life, so they can be free to partake in the "man's role". Perhaps in turn, Eowyn's predisposition for more martial pursuits; even if she has embraced healing and gardening and no longer lives for battle, would also mean she can take on some of the certain necessary duties that Faramir finds taxing.

Between the two, there must have been a more equal division of labour and responsibilities, and therefore more freedom on both sides. Neither one of them fully suits the roles that society has assigned to them due to their gender, and in marrying each other, they no longer have to.

[gallusrostromegalus]

You can lay blame for this second ask at @hoifne 's feet, I saw their comment on the post and had to:

How did folks react to the moon landing?

"You're ready? No Big Regrets?" Renji asks. He always asks. He'd done hundreds of Konso rituals now that he was doing his mandatory tour of duty in the living world, but he never wants them to feel 'routine', so he talks to the ghosts. Hypes them up a bit for the afterlife, tries to keep his heart in it.

Especially when it's a kid.

"Well, it's not really a big deal..." The ghost Suichi considers. He was maybe ten or eleven years old. Thick prescription glasses, face round with puppy fat, very loved. Love won't stop a freak electrical accident though. Young Suichi is handling his sudden departure really well, all things considered, so maybe love does stop despair. "-but its a bit of a shame that if there's no TV in the afterlife, I won't be able to watch the moon landing."

"Yeah, we're a bit behind the times, but I'm sure one of the mad geniuses in the 12th will invent one sooner than late-" Renji grins ruffling the boy's hair before the rest of the sentence registers. "-The What Landing?"

"The Moon Landing!" Suichi lights up with excitement. "They just launched the rocket yesterday! But in just three days, man will walk on the moon!"

"...The Moon?" Renji blinks, bewildered.

"Yeah!"

Renji points up over his shoulder into the sky, gripping the boy's shoulder, eyes wide. "THE MOON IN THE FUCKING SKY?"

---

The lights of the Fifth division offices reflect blankly off of Captain Aizen's glasses as he attempts to process the news. He is entirely still, save for his eyebrows which are writhing like overcaffienated caterpillars, unable to settle on an emotion to convey.

"The Moon?" Lieutenant Ichimaru squints at Renji even harder than usual, pointing up out the window behind him. "The Moon in the fucking sky?"

"Yeah!" Renji spread his hands. "I didn't believe it either but the humans have managed to work out some neat trick with the way the world turns to like, throw the spaceship like a slingshot..?" he tried to explain.

"So, so there's three guys in a boat-" Captain Aizen tried again, reaching up under his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.

"It's really more like a sealed metal tube, but they call it a Space Ship because it does sorta sail through space..." Renji tried to explain, holding up the newspaper from the living world he'd brought back to substantiate his claims and also provide helpful images to explain what was happening.

"So there's three guys in a metal tube and they... threw it into the sky so hard that instead of falling it started flying instead?" Aizen tried. "How do they even throw something that hard without Kido?"

"So the men are up in this little itty bitty bit at the top that looks like a cap on a vaccine needle-" Renji pointed at the image of the Apollo 11 rocket. "-All the rest of this is the uh. enormous amount of extremely coordinated high explosives they used to launch it. The. The whole thing is like... It's a little over three hundred fifty shaku and only 12 shaku of that is where the humans are. The rest is um. Air they smooshed so hard it became liquid and then they set that on fire and look at the picture you can see the kaboom!" Renji tried to explain, pushing the paper across Aizen's desk for his captain to read.

Aizen certainly pointed his face at the image and accompanying article, but 'read' may have been a bit beyond him at the moment.

"Oh, is that all it took?" Ichimaru hummed with interest. "Well fuck, why haven't we done that?"

"Oh yes, how very silly that the humans have beaten us at the trifling matter of FLINGING OURSELVES INTO SPACE, WHAT THE *HELL* ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT ICHIMARU??" Aizen objected.

"Well like. Idea's sound. Moon goes around the earth, so a smaller thing should too. And we can absolutely make a sealed metal container and kaboom bigger than that." Gin shrugged, as though this were plainly obvious. "Betchya the clown that runs the twelfth has the stuff laying around- we got a meeting with him later today anyway, why not ask?"

"Oh sure, that's a great Idea!" Aizen beamed. "Why hello Kurotsuchi-taicho, curious news from the human world- do you think you could spare a few parts and several tons of explosives to send some guys for a stroll on the moon?"

There was a moment of silence where Renji and Gin shared an awkward glance (or at least, Renji gave meaningful look to the narrow slits where his lieutenant-commander's eyes theoretically were).

"...he'd agree to that in a heartbeat, if he hasn't started work on his own Spaceboat already." Aizen groaned.

---

"No." Grunted Mayuri.

"No? Why not?" Aizen asked, head cocked to the side like a confused spaniel.

"Look, what the old man doesn't know about budget expenditures won't hurt him!" Gin smiled encouragingly. "Think of all the scientific data you'd get to research!"

"What the old man finds out about budget expenditures after the fact can and will hurt me." Mayuri growled. "It's not cookie money, kitting an expedition to the living world to engineer a spaceship with atomic matter instead of Reishi- No, much more efficient to let the humans do it for us and poach the date from them."

"...Why would we need to go to the Living world?" Aizen blinked, confused. "I can see the moon from the window right here?" Aizen pointed out the window of Kurotsuchi's office.

"What? That moon? You can't go to that moon!" The clownish chemical engineer cackled."

Aizen and Ichimaru stared at him blankly.

"Is. Is the moon here different than the one in the living world?" Aizen asked, bewildered.

"Different? It doesn't exist!" Mayuri laughed, waving his hand at them.

Aizen and Ichimaru stared at him, then leaned back in their seats, looking out the window at the moon, which still looked as physical and present as it ever did.

"...Oh don't tell me you didn't know." Mayuri frowned, pouting. "No, spirit world doesn't have a moon. The thing up in the sky is a Tulpa- there's a "moon" because everyone who comes to spirit world thinks there should be one, and there's so much ambient spiritual energy even weak souls can exert some force on the nature of reality and when millions of them are all certain there should be a moon, a moon manifests. Or at least, a thing that looks like a moon. Doesn't act like one, changes size and skips around it's phases all the time and if it really were a round object in space, that's NOT what a crescent moon would look like."

Aizen and Ichimaru looked back out the window at the "Moon", whose crescent arced a full three quarters of the alleged satellite's circumference.

"Seriously? this is some really basic stuff." Mayuri glared at them in disappointment. "You never noticed that the moon is always visible out any random window at night, no matter what time it is? It doesn't even go east-to-west more than half the time!"

"But. But we have a lunar calendar..?" Aizen muttered, an edge of genuine distress in his voice.

"Oh yeah, the moon *used* to be regular as clockwork- everyone literally set their watches to it." Mayuri shrugged. "Then sometime about eh, two and a half, three thousand years ago? Right around the same time the first captain-class spirits started appearing, the moon started doing this 'Full Moon Thrice A Month If it Feels Like It' and 'Visible At Improbable Angles' nonsense."

Aizen's eyes were wide and Gin's very nearly open with alarm.

"That's uh- that's terrifying?" Aizen sputtered, now outright frightened.

"Yeah, anybody know what coulda caused that?" Gin muttered.

"The going theory is that the precipitation of a new class of spiritually hyperpotent souls like us has caused disproportionate tugs on the desired appearence of the the "Moon", but that's only a theory- my predecessor's predecessor once attempted to send a camera to the 'Moon' for a closer look, but it never actually *got* any closer." Mayuri explained, casually inspecting his fingernails- he seemed to be growing out the middle one for some godforsaken reason. "-Your theoretical starboat would likely far worse."

"...Okay but that's worse. You understand how that's worse, right?" Aizen demanded and Mayuri waved him off.

"No, no hit makes sense-" Gin nodded, and Aizen glared at his lieutenant. "Think about it! There's what, three and a half billion human on earth? Millions die every day, but only a couple hundred ever turn up every day at the intake queue in the 7th, and nearly everyone is from just the one part of Japan. We're one afterlife of many- ugh, could you imagine if the missionaries were sent here?- anyway, our world is nowhere NEAR as big at the Living World, so the moon-moon is just a geographical feature in the living world, and there's only a couple million people living here. We got disproportionate swing, so we pull on the collective conciousness more. It's fine!"

"That's AWFUL!" Aizen shouted, dismayed.

"I mean I think we all understand God is an Asshole, but what are you gonna do about it?" Mayuri shrugged before tapping on the crate beside his desk. "-Anyway, do you want these Polio Vaccines for the rukongai outreach program our not?"

"I- yes. Please." Aizen muttered.

"Good man, sign here." Mayuri tapped the sheet on his desk. As Aizen tried to read over the provisions release paperwork, the small "Electronic Mailer" on Mayuri's desk pinged. "Oh, the word got out- Kyoraku-taicho wants to hold another moon-viewing party for the occasion. Do me a favor and attend so you can explain to him why we can't go to our 'moon' for me? I don't want to go, and I really don't want to explain it to him through a hangover either."

"If you don't wanna go Boss I'll stand in for you. Promises to be a real riot." Gin grinned.

"Yes, you have your young friend, don't you? Miss Matsumoto?" Aizen smiled fondly at his second-in-command.

"Oh, she probably already got her invite- she an' Miss Nan- er, lieutenant Ise are real pals from the academy." Gin laughed. "Nah, I was gonna drag old blind bones along."

"...Captain Tousen?" Aizen asked, befuddled. "Whatever for?"

"Stars ain't exactly braille, y'know?" Gin explained, wiggling his fingers. "He knows even less than we do an' I wanna watch Rangiku and Kyoraku try'n 'splain the whole thing to him." Gin grinned.

"Sounds lovely! Take your shit and get out of my office." Mayuri threatened.

---

Renji exhaled, still bewildered, laying on his back on the grassy hill just outside the 2nd division training grounds, staring up at the moon as it rose opposite the sunset behind him. Or, maybe not? There had been some lecture about how the moon in spirit world wasn't a moon back at the academy that he didn't really remember-

"You sound like you're in the throes of a moral conundrum Red." Shuuhei teased, looking up from the strange contraption he was setting up.

"Huh?" Renji blinked. "Oh, no I'm just- Those guys in the Spaceship gotta be somethin' else, going to die thousands of miles from home."

"What? The Astronauts? They'll be fine! -Probably." Shuuhei laughed. "They're definitely insane, getting in that contraption at all, but they still gotta come home with all the rocks and whatever they get from the moon for the lab techs to look at."

"...How the hell are they getting back?" Renji frowned, rolling up onto his elbow to frown at his senpai. "I thought they blew up all the rocket getting off the planet?"

"They got a bitty rocket in the lunar landing craft that will get them between their ship and the lunar surface, and then they will angle the ship a bit and the moon will fling them back to earth the way earth flung them at the moon." Shuuei explained, not looking up from the weird bass-drum looking object he was messing with.

Renji opened his mouth, realized his friend probably understood it way better than he did, closed his mouth, shrugged, and changed topics. "So what is that thing you had me haul up here?"

"It's uhhh... Experimental. Haven't got a name for it yet." Shuuhei muttered, placing a level on top of it and frowning at the bubble before adjusting the legs bolted awkwardly to the side of the drum. "-But with all this excitement about the Lunar Landing, I realized Tousen-Taicho is... I mean he gets left out of a lotta stuff, y'know? But it's not like he can see the stars, or the spirit-moon, and I don't think he really understands orbital mechanics-"

"I sure fuckin' don't." Renji muttered.

"Yeah, because you're the kind of moron who put a ham sandwich in a VCR-" Shuuhei rolled his eyes.

"That was ONE TIME, and Matsumoto Senpai told me it was a Panini Press!" Renji sulked.

"-and then pressed "Fast Forward", but Tousen is actually smart as hell- I'm the one who can't explain it without gestures he can't see." Shuuhei continued. "...but I can use a camera obscura and reiryoku-sensitive film to sort of take an old exposure image of the night sky. I'm hoping that if I treat the exposed film right, that the light and dark parts will turn into different textures for him to read, like a braille sky."

"Oh." Renji muttered. "That's really nice of you actually."

"I mean, we'll see if it works." Shuuhei shugged, examining the level again. "Hand me the allen wrenches- What about your boss?"

"Captain Aizen? Uh- honestly? He seems a little freaked out by all this and I saw him fuckin' slam the newspaper into his wastebasket when he got back from the twelth." Renji winced. "He's weird like that. Sweet as cake most of the time but then there's these weird flashes of anger... and I'm not sure how much longer he's gonna be my boss."

"As in you got ambitions, or you think he's gonna get fired?" Shuuhei asked, staring at the level again.

"As in 'Tetsuzaemon Iba got in another brawl with his mother about him only being fourth seat when she made captain, and Liuetenant Madarame asked me if I'd updated my resume recently." Renji winced.

"Woof. Talk about a lateral promotion." Shuuhei winced. "Still, the pay raise would be nice. You could afford to take your girl Rukia somewhere up to her brother's standards!"

"IT'S NOT LIKE THAT!" Renji snapped, rolling over and jumping to his feet. "-It's -I'm sorry. It's kinda complicated." Renji sighed.

Shuuhei was silent for a minute as Renji sat back down on the grass, face in his hands. After a minute of fine-tuning the drum to keep it level, he spoke up. "You're more than good enough."

"Huh?" Renji jolted. "Oh, yeah- I'd be doing all the eleventh's paperwork but there's no way it's worse than the fucking rice subsidies accounting board-"

"That's not what I meant." Shuuhei glared.

"...I know." Renji groaned. "It's just. It's complicated, okay?"

"If you say so." Shuuhei shrugged. "Alright, hand me the flat box- thanks. It'll be ready for exposure in a minute, and I want to get it done before those clouds roll in." He gestured at the distant thunderheads threatening to bloom into a summer storm on the edge of the city.

The process was quick- the shielded plate went into the gap under the drum, and the light of the night sky was reflected onto it from a pinhole in the top. Once the metal plates were pulled back, it needed a few minutes to pick up enough light, before Shuuhei pushed the metal shutters back in and locked the plate in darkness until it could be developed.

"It's for taking pictures of the stars, right?" Renji asked as Shuuhei started disassembling the camera. "You could call that plate an Astrograph."

"Hah! Futuristic. I like it!" Shuuhei grinned. "C'mon and help me with this thing before the punishment squad turns up to kick my ass for having a camera within a mile of the second."

[threefuckencrowsinatrenchcoat]

I’m a sucker for little details and Dead Boy Detectives does that SO WELL SJSJ

So without further ado here’s a not-so-comprehensive-or-complete list of my fave little details from the show (and if you haven’t seen it yet. GO GO GO)

1. Edwin and Charles’s movements. The way they mimic each other, tilt their heads at the same angle at the same time, the silent conversations, UGHHH

2. Charles finding Edwin in Hell EXACTLY MIRRORING Edwin finding Charles when he was dying (ie the dying one turned away, wrapped in a blanket with no hope and the saviour standing above them looking like a goddamn angel, holding a lantern)

3. I didn’t count but I bet if I did I would see exactly 147 cats (King included. When I do my rewatch I’ll count for sure)

4. The music choices!!! I knew this show would steal my heart when they played Hang On To Yourself (one of my favourite Bowie songs OF ALL TIME) in the first episode, and I was EVEN MORE SURE when they played Disorder (also one of my fave Joy Division songs)

5. The cat king wearing a skirt :)

6. Any nod to the Sandman honestly I loved that show too I was so hyped when Death and Despair popped up

I’ll def update this list on my rewatch but pls pls reblog with ur own favourite details so I can look for them!!!

[annas-anya]

Acrylic paint

Neon + black one of my favorite color palette

[nyxneon]

So, anyway, here's my awesome new tshirt.

It looks badass.

[amywritesthings]

silver underground. / chapter 20.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 6k Summary: flashback ten - also known as the final mission Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - graphic violence, minor character deaths, titan deaths, bloodshed, graphic depictions of injury, despair, peril

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

CHAPTER 20 - FLASHBACK: TEN

Eighty to forty.

Slashed in half.

On paper, the tactical statistics sound nothing short of a miracle.

In a division plagued by endless casualties, any hope of saving lives rather than destroying them should (and will) sanction blind approval from higher command.

For the commandant, for the king, for the people behind those Walls relying on this team to succeed in breaching the forest to pursue the mission of the Scout Regiment, it’s the best idea curated to date—

And it’s all thanks to Commander Erwin and his right-hand man, Captain Levi.

Levi Ackerman insists he can take on any Abnormal single-handedly.

Commander Erwin insists his Special Operations squad can and will find a way through the thick of it, once and for all.

A triumphant success for humanity, no matter the cost.

— but that was on paper.

When you wake, Levi isn’t beside you in your bed.

His disappearing act in the morning isn’t unusual nor is it disappointing.

By now you're used to waking up without him, though you only find yourself sleeping thanks to him.

(He's admitted that, if he doesn't slip out earlier than when you wake, then he may never leave.) 

Although your relationship is the worst kept secret within the Special Ops squad, it’s still just that:

A secret.

What is not a secret, however, is the trajectory of what’s to come.

Not every day in the regiment is a nightmare, but this is the type of day the average cadet dreads when they pledge their allegiance to the Survey Corps.

So you ready for the day with noticeable weight on your shoulders.

A determination to see this through.

A promise to show up for your fellow man.

(An oath to Levi that the two of you will make it out of this alive and see another sunrise.)

Today will be brutal, but you can prevail.

Stepping out of your quarters in full Scout gear, you hear the whinnies and whines of nearing horses as they gallop toward headquarters.

You fix the collar of your cropped tan jacket in time with your footsteps descending down the stairwell, mind elsewhere.

Bodies hurry in and out of the open front door. Gear clinks. Blades sheath.

“Lieutenant James!”

That voice belongs to no soul you know.

You stop dead in your tracks right in front of the open double doors. Turning to the sunlight, you raise a hand to shield the rays to locate who may have spoken your name.

Before you stands an entirely new group of Scouts that you’ve never seen before. Fresh-faced and determined, if not a little terrified — there is a large array of them standing around in a semicircle at the mouth of headquarters.

All adorn the Wings of Freedom.

All press their fist backwards to their heart, denting the emblem.

You realize some of their faces look familiar.

Albeit it was a brief stint as a cadet in the training corps, recognition flutters over your face as you spy some of the hopefuls that slept not so far from your bunk in the barracks.

It's been years. What were once youthful faces now age well before their time.

“Lieutenant, sir!”

The one in the center, a short-haired woman with glasses, barks once more.

“We’re pleased to make your acquaintance and to serve under the command of Humanity’s Strongest.”

At first you say nothing, dazed at the sheer number of this squad. 

Seven people hold steadily onto seven individual horses, their shoulders shrouded by emerald green cloaks. Some keep their hoods adorned to the crowns of their heads. Others bare their nervous but brave faces to you.

“At ease,” you murmur, and they lower their fists. “I wasn’t aware another squad was joining us this morning.”

“Miro Squad, sir, at your service,” the short-haired person greets, bowing. “I received Commander Erwin’s urgent letter for additional soldiers in the pursuit of breaching the forest.”

They take a half-step back and gestures to their team, pointing out every soul on their squad.

Miro, their leader; Trina, their second-in-command with wild fiery hair; and Scouts Orin, Max, Penelope, Cesca, and Rini.

Seven additional Scouts.

Fourteen Scouts in full for this Hail Mary of a mission.

Then it hits:

Proposing half of the original projected damage was bold, even for someone as shameless as Commander Erwin.

He had no qualms with setting this mission up with the new layout provided by Levi, ensuring as much of an air-tight plan as possible.

Eighty to forty percent is nothing short of a miracle.

But miracles do not exist in the Scouts.

Your stomach drops into the dirt with the sickening realization of what Commander Erwin’s grandiose solution really meant.

Miro Squad is the forty percent reduction.

A cruel and inhumane buffer of surefire casualties in order to keep the Special Ops squad intact during the breach.

You’re staring at a group of devoured bodies before you even reach the trees.

“It’s…”

You struggle with your words before slamming your backward fist to your heart, raising your chin.

Some of the younger Scouts stare in awe at your blatant display of honor.

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Miro Squad.” 

You bow, though you feel dirty for doing so.

“I trust Commander Erwin made you aware of today’s efforts?”

Miro nods. “We intend to serve however we can.”

They don’t know.

They need to know.

They need to make an informed decision before—

“Lieutenant,” a deep voice sounds behind you, and your skin crawls.

Turning your chin, you stare eye to eye with the blue-eyed man boring down on you.

Commander Erwin appears somber.

Stoic.

“Yes, Commander?”

The question is small, but it drips with a knowing venom.

Erwin is not fazed. “Captain Levi is tending to the horses at the stables. Can you aid him in preparation before departure?”

To you, you conjure what appears to be a clear answer woven between the lines:

Do not interfere. Do not disobey.

You hold rank to an extent in the Scouts, but what the Commander says, goes.

Continuing to hold his icy blue stare, you try to convey the question you cannot say out loud.

(Do they know what is about to happen?)

Erwin continues to stare right back, not the least bit fazed by the conflict in your brow.

He is confident. He is headstrong.

An answer.

They're going to dedicate their hearts.

(Just like you, too, promised years ago.)

Without another word, you turn on a heel and beeline straight to the stables.

Anger.

Why do you feel so much anger?

Is it because the outcome feels bleak well before mission has started?

Are the odds truly this stacked against humanity?

When you reach the parted doors of the stables, he's there — Levi Ackerman stands in front of his black stallion, gliding a gentle hand down its muzzle.

He senses your presence well before you even say a word.

He turns easily to you, but his eyes sharpen a fraction when he picks up how pinched your shoulders are.

“James,” he greets neutrally, brow knitting. “What’s—”

“Miro Squad just showed up.”

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb,” you snip, making your way to your own horse — she has a white coat with speckled gray spots all along her body.

She makes a small chortle noise when you near and you serve your flattened palm to her for a nuzzle.

(Behind the pen doors, you note she already has her gear in place. Levi must have already saddled her up for you while you were getting ready.)

The dark-haired man to your left sighs in a huff. 

“Not playing dumb, James. I was genuinely asking.”

“It’s the squad Erwin’s setting up for slaughter,” you decide to elaborate hotly.

A pause passes.

You don't turn to see Levi's expression, but you can sense how tense the space between the two of you has become.

“If it’s Miro Squad he called to action, then they’ve fared well in comparison to the other squadrons," he argues with little fire. "Did he personally request them?"

"Allegedly."

"Allegedly?" Levi repeats, sharper in tone. "Either he did or he didn't."

"According to Miro, yes, he sent an urgent letter requesting aid."

Finally you turn a cheek towards him, forcing your eyes to meet.

You know that look he gives you sidelong. 

Don’t start.

(Neither of you need to fight again, not before this mission.)

"Then Erwin didn't pick a random crop of Scouts to shit the bed and die on us," Levi reasons, softer. Conspiratorial. "I know you think he’s a bastard, but—”

“Worst case scenario,” you interrupt, “at least his Special Ops team won’t die?”

“If my strategy goes well, then no one dies." He counters with the certainty that’s entirely Levi. “You forget my name is on the damn ledger, too, unless this is you trying to tell me something.”

White-hot embarrassment courses your veins as your childhood friend waits for you to challenge his statement — to call him an equal-part premeditated murderer sat right beside the commander.

You can’t.

You won’t.

Instead you cool off by slowly petting your horse, willing your bad feeling to wither away.

After a moment, Levi wills his voice to soften again. “We need as many Scouts as we can—”

“I know.”

“—and even then, if we all kick the bucket, it's on me."

Levi finishes with a heavy sigh. He turns away, dropping his chin to his chest.

“I'll take whatever punishment fits the crime if it goes to shit."

A beat passes.

Blinking several times, you turn your body to him and drop the attitude.

“...and I'll do everything in my power to make sure we stay alive," you whisper softly. "That everyone comes home."

Levi’s head hangs, cascading his wispy black hair as a curtain over his face.

“That's not supposed to be your burden."

"Where you go, I go, remember?" you tell him. "For better or worse, I don't care."

"Wanna workshop vows, huh?" he mumbles. "Right now?"

This seems to ease the air about the stables.

Centimeter by centimeter, twin pairs of shoulders release in their tension.

You can't help but smile, even if the moment is tense.

"I think the Commander would find the dramatics funny."

"Oh, sure, proposing to your ass right before the single-biggest mission in Scout history would really tickle his funny bone," he sarcastically replies.

"It'd sure tickle Hange's."

"Hange doesn't need more ammunition, not after catching our asses that one time—"

"That one time that was your fault, you mean?" You grin as he glares. Still, his scowl is playful. "Loud Mouth Ackerman—"

"Shut up, Lieutenant."

Levi lets go of his horse and raises his hand, palm outstretched.

“Get the hell over here before anyone catches us a second time, alright?”

Albeit small, he smiles.

It's forced, like he wants to remember this — to focus on this.

The final moments before the point of no return.

Like a moth to a flame, you step away from your horse to step towards the short, dark-haired man.

Once you’re close enough, he pulls you in from the nape of your neck and drags your forehead to his, pressing them together.

His eyes squeeze shut.

You stare, memorizing his face.

“I love you,” he murmurs. “Don’t die.”

All the anger in your body melts away.

“I love you, too,” you reply just as softly. “I won’t—”

The stable door creaks.

You leap off of the captain to pretend like you’re picking up the bucket of water at his boots.

Levi stays put, dropping his arm like dead weight.

“Captain. Lieutenant.”

You don’t need to see the face to know it’s Erwin’s voice echoing through the stables.

“It’s time to move out.”

You both reply in unison, two different octaves.

“Yes, sir.”

.

.

.

.

.

The formation is simple:

Captain Levi leads the charge into the forbidden forest with Lieutenant James at his side.

Behind them in a diamond formation are the Special Operation Scouts Petra, Oluo, Gunther, and Eld.

Command Erwin, Section Commander Hange, and Moblit remain at headquarters for the recon and debrief.

At the rear of the formation are Miro Squad to specifically call out nearing and flanking titans that the first squad may miss.

They shadow the Special Operations unit as back-ups, no matter the cost.

And at first? It's easy.

Deceiving easy.

The mouth of the forest gives little trouble.

Both squadrons of Scouts breach the thick grove of towering trees without incident.

Thirty minutes into this mission, in the belly of this beast, not a single Abnormal has been spotted.

There aren't any typical titans, either.

It’s quiet.

Serene.

“Alright, listen up!”

With his hands tightly wound around leather reigns, Captain Levi finally calls to the Scouts behind him.

“Keep your eyes peeled. Abnormals do not move like other titans. These shitheads can be fast and appear at a moment’s notice.”

“Right!” Several of the Miro squad shouts back.

The Special Operations squad is too focused to reply.

Whenever you glance over at Levi, he’s smooth as stone. 

He refuses to allow any emotion cloud his judgment on a mission, and you can imagine it won’t be any different this go-around.

Because this mission cannot fail.

The Scouts must push forward, no matter the cost.

(Even if the irrevocable cost makes you sick to your stomach.)

The sun shines bright over a canopy of trees.

Your cloak is too warm in this type of weather.

As you push further into the thick of the terrain, nearing what is assumed to be the halfway point of the forest, birds chirp less and less.

Eerie silence overtakes the pounding of hooves into the dirt.

Then, as fast as an inhale, you see it:

Directly ahead trudges a nine-meter titan, peering around a thick tree trunk.

"Captain!" Gunther shouts. "Ahead at our twelve!"

"I see the piece of shit," Levi calls back. "We keep moving. I'll take care of it."

You don't doubt that he will.

As it continues to slowly advance on your formation, you can tell the team is a little more tense.

Ready — 

Except no one was prepared, not really.

The titan ahead is an army of one, but it is not the only titan here.

It was just the only one right in front of you.

Behind you sounds a scream so bloodcurdling that you nearly lock up on your horse.

You turn despite yourself.

Within seconds, you see Max get ripped clear off of his horse with the sheer force of otherworldly strength.

(...a hand?)

Then, a gust of wind sweeps and swirls the dirt into a lackluster tornado.

His horse narrowly escapes.

It rolls over and over, kicking up a thick dust cloud.

Max speeds through the air at breakneck speed like a human arrow —

Until he abruptly crashes into a thick tree trunk, dislocating his spine from his head.

The crunch is like ripping a stalk of ripe lettuce in half.

He simply crumples against the tree, limbs peacefully blowing in the wind like a leaf.

His Scout cloak billows over his shocked face, forever frozen in belated surprise.

Gone.

Just like that.

Then from the shadows, as if waiting for its prey, a five-meter titan stumbles around a tree to chomp on the recently deceased body.

It gnaws off his legs as they dangle in the air, spattering blood all over the forest floor.

Your horse gallops on.

You can't look away.

Then someone screams, forcing your eyes to rip away from the horror.

“Cesca!” A blonde girl shrieks to the right of the formation — Penelope, you think her name is. “Don’t!”

“It's devouring him!” Cesca wails at the top of her lungs. “We have to go back for him!”

“He’s already dead!” Trina calls with experienced calm. “There's no use, soldiers! Keep your eyes forward. We keep moving!”

“James—”

Your head turns when Levi calls to you.

Wide eyes meet a narrowed gaze.

“—that means you, too.”

Your eyes round with the realization that everything is happening so fast yet moving in slow motion.

What was that thing?

Was that a... ?

You were so busy watching Max get eaten that you didn’t realize three more titans appeared on the northeast corner, awakened by the screams of Miro Squad.

Shit.

This isn’t good.

This is not good.

“Levi,” you begin slowly, but he shakes his head.

"Don't hesitate. We push forward no matter what."

He's right.

Max is dead.

You just have to hope the rest of Miro squad keeps their wits about them.

You turn your head to make eye contact with Miro.

“Faster!”

“Roger, Lieutenant,” Miro tells you before shouting to their team. “Keep going, Scouts! We should be halfway through the clearing.”

“Miro,” Trina alerts them sharply, "three more titans are crowding from the right."

“Shit, what does that make it now? Seven of them!?” Miro hisses.

(Seven?)

Your eyes connect with Petra who appears equal parts shocked at just how quickly this mission has dissolved.

“I— there's a whole bunch of them in the back!”

Penelope calls frantically, staring behind her.

"They're surrounding us!"

Three to the east.

Another three to the northwest.

A couple to the south, and another...

Something entirely unlike anything you'd ever seen before.

“Captain, we’re going to need to ditch the horses,” you tell Levi in a hushed voice.

“Not yet,” he replies, smooth and certain.

“Not yet?" you repeat. "Levi, we have an entire army of goddamn titans on our—”

“I said not yet,” he coolly bites. “I’ll handle them.”

You know he will.

You just don’t want him to go up against them on his own.

Suddenly someone from the right side of the formation ignites their ODM gear, and they swoop overhead.

Blonde hair whooshes straight by the team and into the forest thick.

Penelope is the first to pull the trigger.

“I’m gonna get ahead of the curve and attack!” she calls, zipping through the trees towards some of the smaller titans.

Levi says nothing, but Miro shouts to their own squad: 

“That wasn’t the plan! Damn it, Penelope!”

Her body rounds one of the tree trunks and heads right, disappearing.

Say something.

Say anything.

If that thing that killed Max is how an Abnormal moves, then Penelope doesn't stand a chance on her own.

You speak to him again. "Captain—”

“Not yet, James.”

“Penelope is going to get killed!” you argue, your grip on the reigns tightening.

“That’s the choice she made,” Captain Levi argues in return, sounding a little too much like Commander Erwin in the moment. “Remain steady and wait for my signal.”

Twigs fold and crackle under new weight to your right.

Then a thud shakes the straight through the horses and into you.

Penelope must have taken down at least one normal titan.

“Captain!”

Miro shouts in the middle of the squad.

“Should we engage? My squad can take care of the titans and carve a path forward!”

There is a tense, pregnant pause.

Everyone waits for Levi's instruction.

Two smaller titans walk directly towards the horses.

The dark-haired man's nostrils flare with decision.

“I’m going to take down the two ahead,” Levi shouts, effortlessly swinging a boot to the saddle of his horse.

With the muscles of his thigh he pushes until both boots are surfing against his running horse.

His black hair blows wildly in the wind. Like a well-oiled machine, he pushes back his cloaks to reveal his ODM gear, readying for deployment.

"Miro, take your squad and eliminate the enemies flanking us. You can come back to us once you're finished."

“What about the rest of us, sir?” calls Oluo.

Levi’s eyes narrow at the enemies ahead.

“My squad will keep the horses going. We need to make it to the end of this forest, for humanity's sake."

"And Captain, what about Penelope?" you quickly ask.

"She's a lost cause, Lieutenant."

He speaks with that coldness he's been forced to adopt ever since your days in the Underground.

"We can't go back for her."

You turn to watch as Miro squad disengages formation and turns around, charging bravely towards the crowd of titans forming behind.

An array of shapes and sizes await their swords.

(Or their flesh.)

Any minute now and it could be a bloodbath.

Any minute—

Levi flies off of his horse, trapezing through the trees.

A gas trail from how hard his gear is working is your only indicator for where he is at such a height.

He twirls with the shine of his unsheathed swords, slashing the napes of the two large titans ahead.

A victory.

Except it's a short-lived victory, because you hear it behind you— 

Miro squad.

They're in trouble.

Even from this distances you hear Cesca, Rini, and Orin scream and panic.

Scouts fly between tree branches with smoke trailing behind. ODM gear ignites and retracts without any real clear sense of direction.

They're drowning back there.

You see the silhouette of someone falling to the forest floor.

"One of us needs to help them," you tell Eld, and he shakes his head sharply.

"You heard Captain Levi."

"They're two fucking Scouts down, Eld!" you snap at your comrade. "We'll lose seven whole people!"

"We can't go against captain's orders, Lieutenant!" Petra calls to you, and Oluo nods beside her.

Scanning your squad still soldiering ahead with the plan, you feel something grip your heart.

Yet another gut-wrenching shriek sounds from the forest.

Maybe it's Penelope.

Maybe it's Cesca.

The voices reverberate and echo through the forest that it's hard to tell.

You don't even realize that you're moving your hands over your cloak to push it out of the way.

Eighty to forty.

"The hell are you doing!?"

The clipped tone of Levi Ackerman as he drops back onto his stallion rips you back into focus.

His knee drops to the saddle, facing his soldiers rather than what's ahead.

Your eyes meet narrowed gray.

"I can help," you tell him calmly. "They're going to die."

"Stay."

"They're going to die, Le—"

"Stay, Lieutenant." Levi's nostril's flare. "That's an order."

Miro squad's screams continue to haunt your subconscious.

You promised.

You said you'd stay by his side.

But isn't this what the Scout Regiment is for?

To save humanity, to give them hope.

It used to be something you felt was such a crock of shit, but you can't ignore the screams back there.

You can't let them die.

"I'm going to help them," you tell him without a tremor. "You know I can do it."

Levi's eyes flash with an indiscernible emotion.

"We'll all come back in one piece. I'll guide them to the horses."

"No."

"And we'll make it to the end of this fucking forest."

You stare back at him, pleading a forgiveness you haven't asked for yet.

(You saved me once. Let me save them.)

"If you go," he growls, "James, if you go, I'll—"

"I'll take whatever punishment fits my crime," you cut him off, "but I can't let them all die."

His pupils shrink, sharpening the whites of his eyes.

The wheeze of ODM gear bursts into life as it lifts you off of your saddle and into the forest sky.

Without thinking, you twist at the hip and take off—

You head south towards the screaming squad as they fight to break free from the titan hoard holding them hostage.

Wind freezes your cheeks.

The outlines of their bodies grow more pronounced the closer you become.

Soon you see five Scouts flying around, swinging their swords to destroy the last remaining titan.

Below are a cluster of smaller dead ones decaying by the second.

Trina, Miro's second-in-command, screams at the top of her lungs as she reaches out to her comrades.

"Help! Please, I don't want to be eaten! Please!"

She's stuck in the clutches of a ten-meter titan, slowly bringing her closer and closer to its open mouth.

They’re everywhere.

(How did everything go so wrong so fast?)

You don't think about dying. You don't worry about how upset Levi will be when you return. You don't stop to second guess your actions. 

You don’t.

You just do.

Yelling at the top of your lungs, you rip both blades from their metallic sheaths at your hips.

Spinning from the momentum of your swing, you slice straight through the wrist of the titan holding Trina hostage.

She falls with enough smarts to break her fall with her own gear.

“James!” Trina cries out with equal parts despair and relief. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I came to make sure you were all okay," you tell them, shaking your head. "I guess you didn't really need back-up. We still have your horses..."

But you trail off, confused.

They should be relieved.

They killed every last titan back here.

Yet the Miro squad cling to the trees, skin as translucent as ghosts.

"Something big ate Penelope!" Cesca sobs, swinging her sword frantically to keep invisible outstretched fingers at bay. Her eyes are a window to nothing. As if she's curled into herself as she screams to you. "You need to—"

You're about to ask what the hell she's talking about.

But then you see it:

Climbing.

No, crawling through the trees, running like a rabid dog through the branches to eye up its prey.

A titan.

In comparison to other titans, it's practically a sun spot.

And it's so fast.

Eleven meters tall. Maybe thirteen.

You can't tell when its crouched like that.

Deformed.

Curled in on itself.

Then it halts when it sees you, blocking you from the rest of Miro squad.

A chill runs up your spine.

You stop to balance against the side of a tree trunk, staring face-to-face with your first Abnormal.

Its grin is something straight out a nightmare.

Its eyes track you, as if it...

As if it hopes you’ll flinch and begin the chase.

Shit.

You can't get around it.

You're stuck here — but the other five aren't.

“Trina, Miro, find Captain Levi,” you force yourself to speak, unable to look away from the Abnormal. “Take your squad north. Tell them you found an Abnormal."

“But—”

“I said go north, damn it,” you growl, clenching your teeth.

"What about you?" Miro asks.

“I'll be right behind you," you promise, though you damn well know you can't run straight through with your gear.

Why isn’t this titan attacking you?

Is it just waiting for you to run first?

Dedicate your heart.

No — this thing isn't going to kill you.

Max is dead. Penelope is dead.

But you came just in time to save five others.

You can save them, yourself, and this mission.

No, you won't die.

Not today.

“Go!”

Shouting at the top of your lungs, the Abnormal finally dives to attack you. 

Only when you swing past it do you realize it was waiting — not for you, no, but for an eight-meter and ten-meter with blood all over its mouth to catch up.

Not one, but three Abnormals.

Shit.

Miro and Trina gather Orin, Cesca, and Rini.

All five swing through the trees back towards where you just came from.

In the meantime, you exhaust your efforts through intense ODM defensive maneuvers to avoid getting caught in the clutches — or teeth — of the three titans.

They chase after you, using the trees to their advantage.

It's no use.

You can't outrun all three.

So you'll have to fight these assholes to find a way out.

Turning abruptly, you side-step the lurching ten-meter reaching out towards you.

With a battle cry from the gut, you scream and slice straight through the nape of its neck. 

Steam emits as it gurgles and stumbles, effectively dying on the forest floor.

One down.

Three to go.

You set your sights on the smaller titan first, gliding and sliding through the trees.

(The eleven-meter titan will be your greatest problem. You choose to make it your final priority.)

When you flip in the air, crown pointed to the ground and feet in the air, you can no longer see the bodies of Miro squad.

Only a faint trail of their gas fumes linger.

It’s just you, and the things that want to kill you.

But you won't die today.

No, you are not dying in this fucking forest.

Because you promised him.

Skating across a large tree trunk, you swan dive in the air and reattach your gear to opposite tree trunks, sights locked on the eight-meter titan.

The eight-meter monster stares directly at you, but you use its shoulder to lodge your spike directly into its flesh.

The momentum of the swing offers enough brutality to effectively rip into the nape of its neck, causing titan blood to splatter all over your body.

It stumbles, falling to the forest floor. You remain perched on its shoulder, sword extended.

Two down.

You can do this.

You can finish these titans off and meet up with the team before the mission is over.

It isn’t a lost cause.

Determined to see it through, you turn on the heel of your boot—

With a might crack of its arm, the eleven-meter knocks you clear off of the eight-meter’s shoulder and straight into the tree your gear is already attached to.

Your head hits.

The world turns into stars right before your eyes.

And before you can find yours wits and attack back—

Its fiery palm seizes your body from the tree trunk and squeezes.

The momentum nearly rips your spine in half when the Abnormal grabs you.

You gasp for air, knocked clear from your lungs.

Because you didn’t disengage your ODM line latched into the nearby tree, the sheer force of its grip on you bends your gear, forcing you to ragdoll between the points.

Shit.

The grapple of your gear won’t budge.

It won’t detract. 

The jerking movements between the manhandling of the Abnormal and your jammed gear create a perfect storm of injuries.

Pops and crunches trickle up your body, breaking bones upon bones upon bones—

You see white. 

The titan cannot get you loose from the tree, and you cannot get loose from it, so you act on pure instinct — with what little strength you have left, it stretches out and around to swipe your sword through the titans hand, narrowly missing your own chest.

One chance, and you took it.

Because not only did the sword cut through the titan, but it split the ODM line keeping you eleven meters in the air.

When you realize you can’t even breathe when the titan lets you go, you know what’s coming.

Weightless and numb of your own pain, you can feel the wind on your face, but your lungs refuse to expand.

They’re trapped from a cracked rib, and you’re out of time.

Something as bittersweet as foolish bravery crawls through your skin, burning it alive:

No one is coming.

You told Miro squad to run.

You defied orders.

—but you promised Levi you wouldn’t die.

(Is this the end of all things, right here?)

The screams and shouts echoing through your mind are not of Levi and Miro squad, no, but of your lost comrades — the ones who experienced the very same hopeless, fleeting feeling of fear right before they went.

You think of ash-blonde hair. Ginger locks.

Were Furlan and Isobel afraid?

When they couldn’t survive the Scouts, when they fought titans, did they look up at the sky just like you?

Did they know it was the end?

Were they worried they disappointed Levi?

Did they think of you, too, the way you're thinking about them?

Would they hate you for what you've done to Levi?

Four pairs of hopeful eyes walked up those Underground City stairs and into this world, yet only one will remain.

I promised.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

No screams.

No sobs.

You reach for the branches, watching the glittering sun through the canopy of trees, but you cannot touch them.

There is nothing you can do.

I’m sorry.

You continue to reach for the sky like you’ll catch on something without strength.

Your adrenaline-addled mind runs through so many memories—

The fighting rings of the Underground City;

The dream of leaving this place;

The feeling of the sun on bare skin;

Him.

Levi Ackerman.

Captain of the Scout Regiment. Humanity’s Strongest.

Your best friend.

The love of your life.

The boy who saved you, over and over, until—

“James!”

Suddenly your body reacts with a pained, strangled gasp.

The beauty of the sun disappears when a dark, oval silhouette overtakes it.

A brilliant shimmer of emerald billows around it.

It twirls and slashes the nape of the eleven-meters neck before pivoting south.

Towards you.

The silhouette nears at supernatural speeds, a trail of gas zipping in its wake—

It’s a man.

His gaze is overtaken by the whites of his eyes.

With how fast he’s descending from the tree tops, it’s a miracle he ducks and dodges every rogue branch.

His black hair is pinned to the sides of his head. The terror is written all over his face.

That face…

Levi.

You can’t speak, but you instinctively reach for his hand.

He grits his teeth, willing his body to fall faster. He breaks a barrier and soars closer to your orbit.

“Stay with me!” Levi shouts, voice determined and strong. “I’ll catch you!”

But you’ve been falling for what feels like hours, and he’s caught you so many times in the past.

When you struggled with ODM gear training, Levi would be the one to spot your fall. Every time, without failure.

But it wasn't his duty to catch you.

It wasn't his duty to come back for you.

He reaches out a hand, teeth clenched, but his fingertips just barely miss yours.

"Shit. C'mon, James, reach!"

He's getting desperate.

You've never seen him desperate.

The ground must be close.

Is it close?

(I’m sorry.)

You wish you could tell him. 

You wish you had the strength, the breath, to do so. 

(I'm sorry.)

You failed him.

You didn’t listen.

You should have listened.

With what little strength is left in your both, you roll your shoulder forward to send your hand towards his.

Your fingertips touch again, but he can’t quite grasp you. 

(But then so many others would have died. An entire squad of seven in a formation of fourteen instead of just three. Isn’t that what the Scouts are supposed to fight for, Levi? Isn’t that why we work so damn hard to achieve this dream for humanity?)

His breath hitches.

His eyes explode.

Because he knows what’s coming, too.

“James!”

A sorrowful breath that should be his name exits your mouth.

(Levi, I’m so sorry. I love—)

The back of your head slams into the ground.

A sickening thud.

A lost gasp of air.

The world goes black.

.

.

.

.

.

  Why did you do it?

Do what?

.

.

.

.

.

  “James!”

A baritone voice shouts your name.

It’s guttural, echoing with desperation. Fear.

.

.

.

.

.

  You gave me a second chance.

.

.

.

.

.

  The man dives through the trees at an otherworldly pace.

Arms pressed tight to his sides, he expertly zig-zags through an array of branches, propelling his body forward.

His emerald cloak billows from behind in an angelic halo.

As he nears, you can make out the whites of his widened eyes.

Instinctively, your hand reaches for him—

A certain sort of deja vu—

Then it hits.

.

.

.

.

.   Because where you go, I follow.

.

.

.

.

.

  Something heavy crashes straight into your body.

Two strong arms envelope you.

A palm cradles the back of your head.

Metallic gear wheezes, straining against its mechanics when your side hits solid ground.

Over and over, you spin at lightning speed.

Whatever holds you does not let go.

— then you collide with something solid, and everything just stops.

Silence.

Dirt kicks up around you in a cloud.

Twin hearts beat against each other.

Slowly you raise your hand to your shoulder—

Reaching— 

Until you find his hand.

Your shaking fingers curl over his.

.

[northgazaupdates]

Islam Bassam Barbari speaks on life in north Gaza on the 160th day of IOF attacks. He writes,

The merciless onslaught of the past six months has ravaged our community, leaving us shattered and struggling to find solace in a world that has been turned upside down. Each passing day brings a new wave of devastation, leaving us with no refuge to call our own.

Families cling to fleeting moments of respite, seeking shelter in the homes of relatives or huddling in makeshift accommodations in schools, hospitals, or even on the unforgiving streets. The once sacred resting places of the deceased have been desecrated, with cemeteries now deemed forbidden grounds. Our loved ones are laid to rest in the most unimaginable of places - along the streets we once walked, by the shores we once cherished, in the playgrounds of schools, the gardens of hospitals, and the quiet corners of our own backyards. Everywhere we turn, we are confronted by the grim reminder of our collective loss, with graves dotting the landscape like scars etched into our sorrowful reality.

But it is the innocent souls of our children who bear the brunt of this unfathomable cruelty, their tiny bodies succumbing to the relentless tide of violence and despair. They are the silent victims, their laughter silenced, their dreams extinguished before they had a chance to bloom. Stripped of their rights and their innocence, they navigate a world devoid of compassion and safety, their childhood stolen from them in the blink of an eye. Each day, we are forced to confront the harsh truth that our children are no longer shielded from the horrors that plague our land, their tender hearts bearing the weight of a burden no child should ever have to endure.

And yet, amidst the darkness that threatens to consume us, there flickers a dim light of hope - a glimmer of resilience that refuses to be snuffed out. In the faces of our loved ones, in the tears we shed for those we have lost, lies a strength that defies the brutality that surrounds us. We stand united in our grief, bound by a shared sense of loss that transcends boundaries and divisions. We refuse to let our spirits be broken, to let our resolve waver in the face of adversity. For in our collective suffering, we find a common thread that ties us together, a bond forged in the crucible of anguish and despair.

[iwillseeyouinanother-life]

Just finished the hunger games trilogy. Fucking wow.

I am glad I waited till college to read this. I would not have understood a single thing when these were popular in middle school.

The final act of mockingjay was brutal.

I use hoopla so I have a bunch of bookmarks throughout the book (mostly me bitching).

I have a history and political science class this semester (I’m in college) I think I’m going to compile all my thoughts and take what stayed with me into those classes.

These books further support something I hold dear to my soul as a social studies major.

Art is the documentation of the human experience.

The Hunger Games is documentation of American apathy to war and violence perpetrated by our own government. The glorification of said violence through propaganda and well executed lies. How division is created by a few powerful people at the very top to conquer and rule to keep a death grip onto whatever power they can grasp.

The Hunger Games is also the documentation of the resilience of the human spirit. How hope in the depths of despair can make a difference. How radical kindness and empathy and love can be in such an unequal broken system designed to chew up and spit people out can be.

I think these books should be put on the shelves and taught in classrooms right next to Fahrenheit 451 and The Outsiders.

I am anxious and excited to see what Sunrise On The Reaping has in store.

[hayatheauthor]

Forging Epic Battles: Techniques for Writing Gripping War Scenes

I want to start this post off with sort of an author's note: this is a long one! I tried to keep my detailing to a minimum but I guess this topic Is just so vast I couldn't help but pour it all out. This really is sort of an ultimate guide and I hope it helps! Also, it was requested by @xweirdo101x (if you want to request something just send me an ask)

War has long captivated readers' imaginations, evoking a sense of grandeur, sacrifice, and the clash of ideologies. As writers, we have the power to transport our readers to the frontlines, immersing them in the chaos, drama, and emotion of epic battles. 

Crafting gripping war scenes requires a delicate balance of research, skillful storytelling, and an understanding of the human experience in times of conflict. In this guide, I will explore various techniques that will help you create dynamic and compelling war narratives, transporting your readers to the heart of the action and leaving them breathless.

Setting the Stage: Creating a Compelling War Setting

When it comes to writing gripping war scenes, creating a vivid and immersive setting is paramount. Whether you are crafting a historical war or inventing a fictional conflict, the setting serves as the backdrop against which your characters and their stories unfold. Here are essential steps to help you create a compelling war setting that captures readers' imaginations:

Research Historical Context or Build a Fictional World:

For historical wars, immerse yourself in research to understand the time period, social dynamics, and political climate surrounding the conflict. This knowledge will lend authenticity and depth to your narrative.

If you're building a fictional world, establish the rules, geography, and cultural aspects that shape the war. Consider the unique elements that set your world apart and make it feel real to readers.

Describe the Physical Environment and Atmosphere:

Depict the landscape, whether it's a war-torn city, a rugged battlefield, or a desolate wasteland. Pay attention to sensory details—sights, sounds, smells—to transport readers into the heart of the war.

Convey the atmosphere of the setting, capturing the tension, fear, or anticipation that hangs in the air. Is it shrouded in darkness and despair, or does a glimmer of hope persist? Use descriptive language to evoke the desired emotional response.

Incorporate Cultural and Societal Elements:

Explore how the war has affected the culture and society within your setting. Are there new traditions, rituals, or customs that have emerged in response to the conflict?

Consider the social dynamics at play—class divisions, power struggles, or the impact of war on marginalized groups. These elements add layers of complexity to your setting and provide opportunities for conflict and character development.

By carefully constructing your war setting, you transport readers into a world brimming with authenticity and intrigue. Whether it's the trenches of World War I, a futuristic intergalactic battle, or a mythical realm engulfed in strife, the setting sets the stage for compelling storytelling.

Building Conflict and Tension

In the realm of war fiction, conflict and tension are the driving forces that propel your narrative forward and keep readers captivated. From the clash of opposing ideologies to the internal struggles within characters, here are essential techniques for building conflict and tension in your war scenes:

Establish Clear Goals and Stakes for Characters:

Define the objectives and desires of your main characters within the war. What are they fighting for? What personal or collective goals are at stake?

Create conflicts of interest between characters, where their motivations and objectives may diverge, leading to tension-filled interactions and confrontations.

Introduce Opposing Forces and Ideologies:

Develop compelling adversaries that challenge your protagonists. These opposing forces may represent different sides of the conflict, ideologies, or even personal vendettas.

Explore the contrasting beliefs, values, and philosophies driving each side, heightening the ideological clash and intensifying the conflict.

Utilize Internal Conflicts within Characters:

Explore the internal struggles and moral dilemmas faced by your characters. How does the war affect their beliefs, principles, and sense of self?

Delve into the emotional turmoil and psychological toll of war, showcasing the internal battles characters face as they navigate the chaos and make difficult choices.

By effectively building conflict and tension, you create a dynamic and engaging narrative that keeps readers invested in your war story. The clash of goals, the ideological friction, and the internal struggles of your characters add layers of complexity and depth to your storytelling, drawing readers deeper into the heart of the conflict.

Developing Dynamic Characters

In the realm of war fiction, dynamic and well-developed characters are essential to breathe life into your narrative and create an emotional connection with readers. By crafting relatable protagonists and antagonists, you elevate the impact of your war story. Here are key considerations and techniques for developing dynamic characters within the context of war:

Crafting Relatable Protagonists:

Give your main characters depth and complexity by exploring their backgrounds, motivations, and personal histories. What drives them to participate in the war? What are their hopes, fears, and vulnerabilities?

Develop relatable goals and desires for your protagonists that resonate with readers. Show how the war impacts their lives and pushes them to grow, change, or make difficult decisions.

Creating Compelling Antagonists:

Craft antagonists who are more than just one-dimensional villains. Give them their own motivations, beliefs, and reasons for engaging in the war. This adds depth and complexity to their characters, creating a sense of empathy or understanding.

Explore the potential for redemption or transformation within your antagonists. Are they driven by misguided ideals, personal vendettas, or the pressures of their circumstances? Allow their development to challenge readers' perspectives.

Conveying the Psychological Impact of War:

Explore the emotional and psychological toll that war takes on your characters. Depict their fears, traumas, and inner conflicts as they grapple with the horrors and realities of the battlefield.

Show the evolution of their beliefs and perspectives as they confront the brutalities of war. Allow their experiences to shape their character arcs, highlighting the resilience, resilience, and vulnerabilities that emerge in the face of adversity.

By developing dynamic characters in your war narrative, you create a multi-dimensional and emotionally resonant story. Readers will become invested in their journeys, experiencing the triumphs, losses, and personal transformations that unfold throughout the war.

Writing Action-Packed Battle Scenes

Action-packed battle scenes are the heart of war fiction, where the intensity and stakes are at their highest. These scenes immerse readers in the chaos, danger, and adrenaline of the conflict. To craft gripping battle scenes, consider the following techniques:

Structuring Battle Sequences for Maximum Impact:

Begin with a clear sense of purpose for the battle scene. What are the objectives? What is at stake? Establish the goals and set the stage for the conflict.

Build tension gradually, starting with smaller skirmishes or encounters that escalate toward the climactic moments. Consider pacing, alternating moments of heightened action with moments of respite for emotional impact.

Balancing Fast-Paced Action and Descriptive Details:

Use concise and vivid language to convey the fast-paced nature of battle. Focus on capturing the essence of the action, highlighting key movements, and sensory details that immerse readers in the experience.

Strike a balance between brevity and providing enough detail to engage the reader's imagination. Avoid overwhelming readers with excessive description, ensuring that every word serves a purpose and contributes to the overall impact.

Using Sensory Language to Immerse Readers:

Engage multiple senses to transport readers into the battle scene. Describe the sights, sounds, smells, and tactile sensations to evoke a visceral experience.

Leverage sensory details to enhance the emotional impact of the battle, capturing the fear, adrenaline, and urgency felt by characters and evoking a similar response in readers.

Good action-packed battle scenes bring the war to life on the page, immersing readers in the heart-pounding action. Remember to focus not only on the physical aspects of combat but also on the emotional and psychological experiences of your characters. 

Conveying Emotional Resonance

In war fiction, it is crucial to convey the emotional impact of the conflict on both individual characters and the larger society. By tapping into the raw emotions experienced during times of war, you can create a profound connection with your readers. Here are key techniques for conveying emotional resonance in your war narrative:

Show the Human Cost of War:

Portray the personal sacrifices, losses, and tragedies that characters endure in the face of war. Highlight the emotional toll on their relationships, families, and communities.

Explore the range of emotions experienced by characters, such as fear, grief, anger, and resilience. Through their struggles, allow readers to empathize with the profound impact of war on the human psyche.

Engage the Senses to Evoke Emotion:

Utilize sensory language to evoke emotions within readers. Describe the sights, sounds, smells, and tactile sensations associated with war to create a vivid and immersive experience.

Connect specific sensory details to the emotions they evoke. For example, the acrid stench of smoke may elicit a sense of danger or the distant cries of anguish may stir feelings of sorrow.

Develop Authentic and Complex Relationships:

Showcase the bonds formed and tested amidst the chaos of war. Explore friendships, romances, and the camaraderie among soldiers to highlight the connections that sustain characters in the face of adversity.

Depict the conflicts and tensions that arise within relationships due to the strain of war. This adds layers of emotional complexity and authenticity to your narrative.

By effectively conveying emotional resonance, you invite readers to experience the human side of war. They will connect with the characters on a deeper level and become emotionally invested in their journeys.

Navigating Moral and Ethical Dilemmas

War is often accompanied by moral and ethical dilemmas that test the values and principles of individuals and societies. As a war fiction writer, it is important to explore these complexities and shed light on the difficult choices characters face. Here are key considerations for navigating moral and ethical dilemmas in your war narrative:

Present Conflicting Perspectives:

Introduce characters with differing moral viewpoints and beliefs. Show the diversity of perspectives within the war, whether it's among the protagonists, antagonists, or the larger society.

Challenge readers to contemplate the gray areas of morality and the complexities of right and wrong by presenting conflicting viewpoints and the reasons behind them.

Highlight the Consequences of Choices:

Illustrate the consequences of characters' actions and decisions. Showcase how their choices ripple through the narrative, affecting themselves and those around them.

Explore the moral dilemmas characters face, such as choosing between duty and personal convictions, sacrificing the few for the many, or grappling with the aftermath of their actions.

Offer Reflection and Discussion:

Provide opportunities for characters to reflect on their choices, engaging in internal dialogue or discussions with others. This allows readers to contemplate the moral implications alongside the characters.

Invite readers to reflect on their own moral compass and engage in discussions surrounding the ethical dimensions raised in your war narrative.

Navigating moral and ethical dilemmas makes your war fiction go beyond the surface-level action and delve into the deeper questions of humanity. It prompts readers to question their own values, moral boundaries, and the intricate web of choices that arise in times of conflict. 

Research and Authenticity in War Fiction

For war fiction to have a lasting impact, it is crucial to conduct thorough research and strive for authenticity in your narrative. By grounding your story in accurate details and historical context, you enhance its credibility and immerse readers in the world of war. Here are key considerations for incorporating research and authenticity in your war fiction:

Study Historical Events and Settings:

Research the historical events, conflicts, and time periods that serve as the backdrop for your war narrative. Gain a comprehensive understanding of the context, including the political, social, and cultural factors that influenced the war.

Dive into the specifics of battle strategies, weaponry, and tactics employed during the time period. This knowledge will help you create authentic and realistic war scenes.

Explore Personal Accounts and Memoirs:

Read personal accounts, memoirs, and interviews of individuals who have experienced war firsthand. These sources provide invaluable insights into the emotions, challenges, and nuances of the human experience during wartime.

Pay attention to the details of daily life, the physical and psychological tolls, and the individual stories of courage, sacrifice, and resilience. Incorporate these elements into your narrative to add depth and authenticity.

Consult Experts and Military Advisers:

Seek guidance from military advisers, historians, or experts in the field to ensure accuracy in depicting military operations, protocols, and terminology.

Engage in conversations or interviews with individuals who have expertise in areas relevant to your story, such as veterans, soldiers, or scholars. Their perspectives can offer valuable insights and help you portray the realities of war with authenticity.

Strive for Emotional Truth:

While research and accuracy are crucial, remember that emotional truth is equally important. Balance historical accuracy with the emotional resonance of your characters and their experiences.

Capture the human aspects of war, such as the impact on relationships, the psychological trauma, and the bonds forged in the face of adversity. Connect readers to the emotional core of your story.

By incorporating thorough research and striving for authenticity, you create a rich and immersive war narrative that resonates with readers. The combination of accurate historical details, personal accounts, and emotional depth brings your story to life.

War fiction is a genre that holds immense power to captivate readers, evoke emotions, and shed light on the complexities of human nature during times of conflict. Through the techniques and considerations I have explored in this guide, you have the tools to craft compelling war narratives that resonate with authenticity and engage your readers on a profound level.

I hope this blog on forging epic battles will help you in your writing journey. Be sure to comment any tips of your own to help your fellow authors prosper, and follow my blog for new blog updates every Monday and Thursday.  

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